The Truth in All Things
by P.L.S
Summary: HP HLander SG1 The founders of Hogwarts aren't who you think they are and they just can't stay gone. But then again they are also involved in a whole lot more.


Title: The Truth In All Things

Author: P.L.S.

Disclaimer: Oh, for shame! That I can ne'er claim to possess the contents herein. Tis' a pity indeed. As this is indeed a multiple fandom crossover, I don't want to list everything I'm stealing from.

Summery: Some secrets were never meant to come to light, others are so outrageous that no one wants them to become known.

Warnings: Mild established slash relationships, maybe cross dressing and male-pregnancy if I can pull it off, maybe some foul language, character deaths (yes, some people coughDanielcough just won't stay dead so I get to kill them a few times.) I wanna see how twisted and depraved I can make a story and still have it ranked T or rather PG-13 so expect the worst. I'm also ignoring HP5... I hated it. I loathed it. I was so bitterly disappointed with it. Besides I wanna kill Sirius in my own little way.

Author's Note: This is in response to a challenge from the Cross-Gate ML.  
ooOooOoo

_Just because a snake is smiling doesn't mean he's not planning on swallowing you, ya get me?  
_Legal Drug Vol. 1 pg24

ooOooOoo

Adam Peirson looked in the mirror. It was past time for him to move on. His friend who now lived under the alias of Rupert Giles gave him a final warning before the old goat took off for Romania, the new mixed Watchers were starting to monitor him, only unlike the Immortal Watchers, they had some space case witch from LA doing it electronically, looking at photos from those irritating cameras at stop lights, tracking anytime identification numbers that he had purchased were used.

He wasn't doing anything useful with his life, dodging duels and making sure that idiot Highlander didn't get killed or get Joe killed didn't count. It wasn't like he really needed to hang around.

"Haven't been to Singapore in a while." he mused as he drank the hair changer potion, his invention, of course. Well, okay. Maybe Rowan of Renshaw helped out with the theory a little bit. And yes it was Godfred Gruff-udd he had conned into actually doing the work. And so what if it was Hendrik who had the brainstorm that started it... Right, it was his invention. Ah, good times were had back then when he was Sauveur of Slaed, the one who managed to buy the castle and grounds for their pet project for a very nice price. He was also the one who taught ritual magicks and nature and spirit channeling.

Maybe he could teach again. Even if it was back at Hogwarts, no, especially if it was back at Hogwarts. That way he could find out if Hendrik's old snake had that clutch of eggs yet. Hendrik the Ulfred, good god, he remembered vividly how the rather unique man died. Hendrik was an immortal like himself, the first one he had honestly been friends with until Rowan and Godfred came along, only those two were both at least a century younger than Hendrik, and Methos knew he was still the oldest by far.

Hendrik was beyond brave, he was chivalry's image and relentless when he was fighting. There was a very good reason his shield bore a badger. Loyal, true, fighting for the weak, protecting of all those he deemed worthy. He died saving a young witch from being burned to death by taking her place. At the end the bones were smashed, ground up and strewn over three different fields. It was the first time Methos could remember an immortal dyeing without giving off a quickening.

After that Rowan vanished, taking the pre-immortal witch with him as per Hendrik's wishes. The wand magicks teacher left behind two apprentices who split his classes into two separate subjects, Charms and Transfiguration. Hendrik's students ended up dividing his one class into History, Astronomy, Runes, and Defense. Godfred and Methos stayed on a few more years, until Methos was tired of it all and left one night. Last he heard his class was split into Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Divination. Godfred's classes supposedly split into Potions, Muggle Studies, and Healing.

He had gone back a few decades later and cast confusion spells on all the documentation of those early days, twisting it so that four people who really never existed founded Hogwarts, so that the legions and all the histories were so far off base that no one would ever be able to tell that four powerful immortal wizards founded the school and that three still lived. The last time he looked, Hendrik was now Helga Hufflepuff, a kindly and slightly dumpy and stupid matron-like figure. Personally, Methos couldn't understand how people believed that dribble. Especially when one looked at the time period and the norms and roles that women played.

Methos ran a hand through his now light brown hair that ran down just past his shoulders. Even his eyes were a lighter hazel-grey as opposed to their former green-hazel. He briefly thought about tweaking his nose, changing it to something that wouldn't stand out so much, but then again he had never really ever disguised that part of himself, and honestly really didn't want to.

Methos sighed, it was time to go visit Etern Alley. At least there the Game was suspended as only the witch and wizard immortals knew of it and used it as a springboard into new lives. Disguise sellers, face change artists, ID crafters, history producers, people who knew people made their homes there and often made handsome livings off of the desperate, bookstores, news agents, and those who knew too much often did a brisk business in selling information and the smarter immortals all studied up on the lives they were going to take on. Besides he wanted to get the latest gossip on the magical side of his kind as well as let everyone know how he ran into this ultra old guy in Chile who might be Methos.

ooOooOoo

Harry slumped down as he watched the people filter through Diagon Alley. He was only here because his aunt was in London and he talked her into dropping him off so that he could get some books for his homework. He also told her that he would pay for an express train ticket the next day as well as cab fare from Greater Whinning's train stop to their house. It was only the middle of June so he wasn't expecting too much, but really, it was a bit better than hanging about the house or park.

Harry turned as a weird feeling filled his mind, he was almost compelled to watch the guy who he just knew should have had chocolate brown hair instead of the dirty blonde that was currently getting in the guy's eyes. Harry frowned thoughtfully as he followed the man, not really understand how he knew so much about how a guy who he had never seen before was disguising himself. He watched as the man turned to walk into an alley and Harry ran into a wall of person.

"'Ere ya are now 'Arry. Watcha doin' out 'ere by yourself?" Harry wanted to curse as he was lead to the Leaky Cauldron and then given a portkey back to Little Whinning by Hagrid. Harry sat in the grass in the empty park as he realized that he was trapped until summer ended and he was back at Hogwarts. He had lost Sauveur's trail and wouldn't get another chance in this lifetime.

Only trouble was, how in blue blazes did he know the guy's name was Sauveur!

ooOooOoo

Harry groaned as his cousin droned on, singing his new favorite song at the top of his oh so very tone deaf lungs.

"All things dull and ug-ly, All creatures, short and squat, All things rude and na-sty, The Lord God made the lot!" Not only did it irritate Harry, it was getting under his aunt's skin as well. The hopelessly hypocritical bitty was a staunch church go-er and Harry saw the tick she was developing just ten minutes ago as he did a load of laundry.

"Each little snake that poisons, Each little wasp that stings, He made their prudish venom, He made their horrid wings!" Normally Harry liked Monty Python and all the depraved and insane things that came from that troupe, but Dudley ruined it for him, as usual. Harry let his head drop to his desk, he wasn't going to get the Divination essay done at this rate, and he was due to be picked up for school in less than an hour!

"All things sick and cancerous, All evil great and small, All things foul and dangerous, The Lord God made them all!" Harry growled as Dudley's voice creaked and squeaked and bellowed it's way through a perfectly innocent unsuspecting song. The carnage, oh the humanity!

"Each nasty little hornet, Each beastly little squid, Who made the spiky urchin? Who made the sharks? He did!" He went over the reasons why he couldn't kill Dudley. 1- murdering a song isn't illegal anywhere in the Western world yet. 2- Dudley was at least three times his own size, it wouldn't be a stretch for Dudley to kill him first by crushing him to itty bitty Harry pieces. 3- he really didn't want to kill, just stop the massacre.

"All things scant and ulcerous, All pox both great and small, Putrid, foul and gangrenous, The Lord God made them ALLL!" Harry stood up, and pulled out his textbook for Hagrid's class, fully intending on setting the book monster on his whale of a cousin. It'd be doing the world a favor. Just then a pop echoed behind him and he saw Professor McGonagall wince as Dudley started in on repeating his last number.

"I hope you don't mind, Potter, but we need to leave a bit early to pick up your new Defense professor as well.

"Amen." Harry said and he started throwing all he had left out in his trunk.

(The song is "All Things Dull And Ugly" from Monty Python's Contractual Obligations Album- I am using it without permission, but hey, what do you expect? Me to write begging for them to allow me to use it? As if!)

ooOooOoo

Methos frowned. The distrust from the Deputy Headmistress was almost palatable. But the boy was the living image of Hendrik the Ulfred. His green eyes, his dark mop of hair, even in his apparently frail body and build. But Methos knew better than to make the mistake of underestimating anyone, especially after watching the 'frail' and 'runtish' Hendrik sweep through the whole village of those that attacked Hogsmeade as they were first building. The vengeful man stole the life of each man who killed any who lived in the castle's village, took the hand of each who looted, and took back only what was due. Methos and the other two 'lords' of the castle just watched, knowing that Hendrik was painfully fair and amazed at the skill and speed of the immortal youth.

McGonagall left them in the main hall of the school, claiming the need to get the Headmaster to greet them. The boy, Harry, looked disturbed and slightly out of sorts. Well, he almost seemed to jump out of his skin the first instant the portkey deposited his escorts in his hotel room.

"Are you named Sauveur of Slaed?" asked the boy in a bewildered tone. Methos' felt his eyes widen. But the boy shook his head and sighed, "I'm sorry, I just... I don't understand it. I look at you and I see stuff, I know things that I know couldn't of happened, it's like... Memories, yeah, memories of some weird alternate world. I mean lightning doesn't dance on peoples skin when they get hurt, and when people die they tend to stay dead, right?" The boy's tone was now pleading, begging for Methos to lie and say nothing is wrong.

But Methos couldn't understand how the child knew all this, of his only name that had been erased from memory and record by magical means. "I," He now stood between two roads. On one hand he could tell the boy the truth, on the other he could wait and see what was happening, "I think maybe your Divination professor should test you. You just might be Seeing." And now he was resigned to waiting and seeing what happened. The boy frowned.

"Ugh, can't I just will it all to go away. I really don't want to see her." Methos laughed. The look on Hendr... no, Harry, yes, Harry's face was very amusing. Methos inwardly sighed, he was really going to have to watch what he called the boy.

ooOooOoo

Methos sighed, the classes were going as well as could be expected. The first years were irritating, the second years obnoxious, the third years loathsome, the fourth years mind bogglingly hateable, the rest a mix of annoying, asinine, and in some cases forgettable. Surprisingly, he had students he liked. Dennis Creevy from Gryffindor wasn't too bad, had an open mind, and never let his failures get him down. Luna from Ravenclaw was like a breath of fresh air, and to his surprise knew what he was at first glance and kept it a secret.

His most favorite, to his surprise was indeed Hendrik's clone. Harry Potter was all at once a contradiction, open minded, but fearful of going against the popular opinion. Not that it was a surprise, as a figure shoved into the limelight, he was keenly aware of the way that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to fail and to drag him through the mud. The paranoia was carefully hidden, but unlike Hendrik who had learned over the course of his thousand some years, this was all built up over just fifteen years. The boy was also beyond brilliant at using his intuition. He was a failure at structured thinking and planning, but when under the gun he kept his cool, for the most part, and was able to function and react beyond the normal fight or flight.

A gentle hoot disrupted his thoughts, two owls were waiting in front of his plate, both with mail for him. The took the two letters and gave both birds mice transfigured from bacon. They both left and Methos started to read.

**_Sauveur,  
Heard from Rowan that you returned to the school. Now what are you planning? You know this project I'm looking over would have greatly benefited from your ages of gathered knowledge. Rowan was also bemoaning the fact that you didn't go join him.  
After the events that Scot dragged you through, I guess going back there would appeal, but I thought you said that without Hendrik it was a cold place to live.  
I'd write more, but owls just aren't the safest things these days and to tell you about my day would place me in court.  
Godfred now Sgt. Walter Davis of the SGC_**

Methos sighed. Rupert was too much of a talker when it came to Godfred. Not that he didn't understand, they were like brothers, and what were the odds that two foundlings would be found in the same village within two years and that those two would die their first deaths side by side in a raid by the Saxons? Their lives were bound very closely, almost as if fate was there guiding them. Both were now watching over the two biggest non-human threats to the world. Rupert was watching over his slayers and champions building out of the chaos an organization made to aide in keeping the demons at bay.

The now Sgt. Davis was helping in his own observing, unintrusive, unflinching way to keep the Choppa'ai from becoming the Gou'ald's highway to enslave the world or just plain erraticate Earth. Slowly, one by one the mortals in the military were taking out the threats, building alliances, and the few immortals drawn to the program were working together as support, and to guide in whatever way they could.

And here he was back at Hogwarts teaching the children who would either fight for or against a mad wizard set on destroying the world that wizards had built for themselves. Looking at Hendrik's clone, he wondered if it really was so important that Harry supposedly stopped Voldemort and was supposed to be designed to kill said Dark Lord. It almost seemed rediculous to even think that destiny was so important to wizards now when once upon a time he helped to found this school which had taught that fate was only one bit of the puzzle and that divination and prophesies could only be used as guides and that chance and human behaviors often knocked fate off balance.

**_Prof. Thomas J. Fendant,  
First, good job on the new look and everything. I actually had to scry for you using one of those bones you gave me to even get where you were. No one has ever been as good at reinventing themselves as you are. Of course, I have to comment on the name- A cheap Swiss table wine?  
I seriously hope that once you are finished with whatever Hogwarts has for you, you become a Slayer Watcher this time. With the influx of the 'Baby Slayers' as my protégés tend to call them, an skilled hand in combat, with the patience of a teacher, and the durability of one of our number would be welcomed. You also wouldn't have to hide what you are if the signs show, with the blending of the two organizations knowledge of immortals has been taken in stride and soon the chronicles (both hardcopies and electronic versions) will be sealed under so many spells that only one of my wiccas would ever be able to access anything.  
Your chronicles are a mess, what did you do? Translate them randomly into languages so dead that not even resurrected Cro Magmons could hope to even have ancestors that spoke them? Trying to figure out what they were practically drove my aide batty (well, more than he was already- the poor boy still thinks Klingon is the official language to be used for the memos.)  
At least visit one of us. Ethan's even stooped to asking me about you. You know that he thinks the world of you (why, I don't know. Must me that student-teacher bond you seem to always nurture without trying. That irresponsible Chaos Mage seems to only listen to you and maybe me once I start hurting him by using my darker powers.)  
Rupert Giles  
Senior SD Class Watcher of the International Watchers Organization_**

Methos smiled at the thought of his very impulsive and maniacal student popping over to bug poor bedraggled Rowan about his location. Ethan, well, he was once the frightfully normal orphan Edwin Wright, born in the early days of the Industrial Revolution, with nothing remarkable about him, other than his being one of the very few untrained muggle-born wizards who not only had a predication towards Chaos Magicks, but also was an immortal. He grew up, got a job in a mill, lived in a tenement, and suffered through life as a low class paid slave.

When Methos found him not more than three months after his first death (drowning in the Thames after falling in while trying to walk home totally soused), the poor man was paranoid, hearing voices, and on his way to Bedlam. Ten years later he was a fervent Chaos worshiper, a skilled avoider of the Game, and loving all that life had to offer. He was still slightly crazy, but Methos just wrote it off as a weird quirk because he wasn't dangerous in the murder and serial killer kind of way.

"Hm, maybe a lesson a three on Chaos Magicks wouldn't be that bad of an idea." Methos mused. He could also probably get old Rowan to lead him a few of the friendlier demons that were now Watchers as well as maybe that souled up vampire that he was always whining about.

ooOooOoo

Harry had been silent for six weeks. He didn't dare tell anyone just what he was seeing each time he saw Professor Fendant. Each time more information and more and more proof that what he was 'remembering' was real seeped into his mind, altering the way he even thought about magic.

It didn't make sense, how could he be recalling memories of a man who died more than a thousand years ago? Why was it that he knew that Hogwarts wasn't founded by two men and two women like everyone thought it was? How could it be that he knew vividly just how much blood was lost to place the wards and that it wasn't the Headmaster who made the school so 'safe'? Why in the world did he know how he died twice to finish the wards and how Rowan and Godfred pulled himself and Sauveur out of a trance so deep and so consuming that they both knew they were one with the castle's spirits as well as the spirits of the wood, lake, and hills?

"What's happening to me?" Harry whispered weakly as he curled up in bed after waking from a nightmare of himself a killing village to avenge the deaths of those who lived in Hogsmeade. They called him the wolf of peace, an avenging soul, but he was just a confused and angry man, trying to understand just why people actually thought it was okay to take lives of those who never wronged you.

Sauveur understood him then, Sauveur seemed to always understand. Rowan and Godfred seemed to get what he talked about half the time, but they weren't alive when Rome was thriving and when the Greek works were thrown around like confetti. They didn't understand when he referred to Plato and Aristotle, but Sauveur was even older than he was by far.

Sauveur told him of Thales and of Babylonian thoughts. He whispered tales of Eygpt and of living as a slave in opulent courts, then as a lord in squalor.

"Oh, gods, Methos." Harry whispered. Then he opened his eyes again to the muted red of midnight in the Gryffindor dorm. "Methos." He got up, he knew it all, at last.

He even knew his last death, giving his life up for the girl he had met the year before. She wasn't a traditional witch, but rather one who was lost from her home, a land called Oz. He had advised her to keep her head down and not to attract attention, but she had failed because of her large heart.

Glenda was just too loving to survive, but before he left he gave Rowan the way to get her home, shoes made of silver and encrusted with runic magicks of many cultures and times.

The fire had hurt, it had been all he could do not to go back on his word, not to break free. But he had promised that if they let Glenda and his friends go in peace, that he'd burn at the stake. And he had burned.

Harry stumbled out of bed, looking for his sword. No, he didn't have a sword, he wasn't immortal. Not in this life.

He had to see Methos, Sauveur would know what to do.

Harry was walking though the dorms in a daze, he just had to get to Methos. Harry had too much going on in his mind, too many memories, too many centuries, too much of everything. Half of his mutterings drifted into Estrucian, the rest in Latin, Greek, and other tongues he had picked up in order to survive the ages he did.

But it wasn't until a very vivid flashback of being offered up as a sacrifice to Nortia. It had hurt so much, being killed so slowly, over and over again. Harry felt the pain of the nails, of the lashings which held him to the makeshift alter erected before a battle. He was a captured enemy scout and they thought he was perfect to give over to their goddess of fate. They just kept stabbing him, over and over, they wouldn't stop. Thankfully, someone finally drove a very large iron tent stake through his heart.

After that he knew no more.

ooOooOoo

He woke up in the hospital wing the next morning, bewildered and uncomprehending what was going on around him. It was cold, too cold. He shivered and tried to get further under the covers where it was dark and warm. He could hear voices but hey seemed to blur together and make his head hurt even more than it already did. Some creature was after him, he had to dodge the claws that were coming into his cocoon.

"No, leave... leave me 'lone." Harry tried to say more, to call for help, but he just felt like so much goo and spaghetti. His whole body hurt and he just wanted to sleep. But the odd voices kept getting louder and the claws wouldn't stop. The covers were taken, stolen by the dementor, and the monsters seemed to slide into the forms of three Madame Pomfreys and three Dumbledores.

It was still too bright and too cold. Freezing hands poked at him, they tried to get him to open his mouth, but he knew not to trust them. They weren't Sauveur, Rowan, or Godfred. Those were the only souls he knew he could trust no matter what because polyjuice never worked with immortals.

Oops, did he say that out loud?

For some reason he knew that talking about immortals was bad. Why was it bad? Oh yeah, now he remembered, he was once tortured for a year straight before Sauveur had found him and his master. His master had found out about what he was and decided to use him as a guinea pig for potion development as well as just something to enact his twisted sadistic fantasies upon. A year of drinking poisons, getting ripped apart, getting forced to get on his knees and take it all over again. Oh gods, that had hurt, driven insane, unable to fight because of the new magics that his master had used, binding him to the sub levels of the castle's wards.

It wasn't just his master who used him, there were others, thousands of others through the centuries. But it was Sauveur who stopped him from becoming a monster once free. Sauveur who told him of serving as a village's sacrificial scapegoat for years, then once free becoming the oppressor and the killer. Sauveur gave him reasons to live, to forgive, to love people again. He became a master of magicks, of the sword, of the students who passed under his tutelage. He understood then just why humans seemed at once scary and beautiful. Serpents were still safer, but humans had dreams, wills, spirits, and ambitions far beyond that of his beloved snakes.

"Sauveur... Where... You?" Harry felt himself say, though the language he used was up for debate, he wasn't really up for trying to talk so that others understood. He just wanted to go to sleep, which he was going to do that second.

ooOooOoo

Harry woke another day to a plastic sack dropped on his lap.

"Huh? Wha?" He looked up and saw Sauveur's smirk.

"Just thought I'd come see how you were doing, and give you something non-Quidditch to read." he said.

"Methos, I remember." Harry said and he had the distinct pleasure of seeing a thunderstruck older than dirt man.

"Hendrik?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I had to start over again, but I wasn't beheaded, was I?"

"No, but, I was so sure." Methos said, Harry sighed.

"It took a hell of a lot of time, but somehow everything lined up. That and the magicks we used to build this home, they faught to bring me back. That's why the muggle wards are here now, the castle and everything, they were just so angry at my death. Or maybe they felt your anger." Methos sat and Harry put his hand on his cheek.

"I didn't want to hope that it was you. I never spent as much time with anyone, told as much to anyone, trusted anyone as much as I trusted you. You healed me as much as I tried to heal you."

"Oh, no. Methos, Sauvuer, you saved me from my personal hell so many times. Look me in the eyes." Methos had to fight to do so, but he finally met the uncomprimising green.

Harry studied Methos, looking for the years they shared, the years they were separated, and how the two mingled in his face, "Who hurt you?" Harry asked, "Someone dared to throw stones at you." he said seeing the truth in the greif and newly dredged up pain. Methos almost smiled at the near growl that earned this man the title of Ulfred.

"Just a child. One who had no idea how much words really do hurt an old soul." Methos said with a sigh and a smile. Harry frowned.

"Bull." Methos smiled with real joy. Hendrik was still the same. Blunt, protective, and far too gifted at seeing through him.

"God, I missed you." Harry grinned.

"Good, now let see whatcha brought me." With that he dumped out the sack, and the pile of X-Men and Gundam Wing comics spilled onto his lap, along with non-magical candies and two Pez despencers, one Darth Vader, the other Darth Mal. Harry laughed as Methos pulled out three cocktail swords, two were taped together at their hilts.

"These wizard kids have no idea what they're missing. Star Wars and toasters." Harry shook his head.

"I'm not too sure about toasters but Star Wars is what makes this life bearable. Of course, I don't tell anyone that the only reason I'm not going mad is because I'm pretending to be Luke Skywalker."

"Well, as long as you're not Anikin." Methos said with a grin, "But you sure you want Volds as a daddy?" Harry snorted.

"As if. Besides, if you wanna do the thing properly, Voldemort is the Emperor, Vader is probably Snape or Malfoy." At that Methos had to laugh long and loud thus bringing Pomfrey to check on them. When she saw that Harry was awake, potions were given, tests were cast, questions were asked, and in the end Methos was chased out because she exausted Harry.

ooOooOoo

Methos watched from under an invisablity charm as Harry was innundated with questions about everything he said in his ferbile indused hallusinations. The Headmaster and the Potions Master were both insitant and even tried to use legilmancy on the fifteen year old boy. Well, fifteen year old boy who used to be a two thousand plus year old immortal who was first killed in his seventeenth summer. Methos wasn't his teacher, in fact no soul could claim Hendrik as a student. Through rumors and experimentation Hendrik found out what he was, what he could and couldn't do, and all the rest that his teacher would have normally taught him. Methos knew that really he was the closest that Hendrik had to a teacher, but even then they were just two old souls who helped each other heal, who had the same hurts, the same scars, the same hope that it would get better and that life would never stop being worth living.

Harry deflected questions, asked even more pressing questions, and generally lead the two inquisitors on a merry wild goose chase. Finally, Pomfrey chased the two men away and after checking Harry over and bowing to his wish not to have a drug indused nap, she left him as well.

Methos dispelled the charm and smiled at Harry who was now engrossed in one of the Gundam Wing graphic novels. He watched as slowly the boy drifted off to sleep, the book held open to his chest, a bit of a snore starting. "Maybe this time I can be there to stop your first death from happening to you at such a young age."

ooOooOoo

Harry smiled as he escaped the Hospital Wing, not with permission, but he wasn't going to rot away under Pomfrey's care. He was still a pre-immortal, but he knew that even then he healed faster and got sick less than the normal kid. Staying in the Hospital Wing was for quidditch accidents, getting half-killed by Voldemort or a Death Eater, or getting slapped around by a giant snake. Well, the last he now understood. The basalik felt betrayed and forgotten about, he also knew it was his master when the order to kill was given. Harry was sorry that the whole mess was his fault. But really, keeping a dangerous creature like that in the school, what was he drinking when he desided that was okay?

Harry also wanted to know just what Methos did. Everyone now thought that Ravenclaw was founded by some bookish shrew, Hufflepuff by some doddering old grandmother, Slytherin by a ethnocentric megolomaniac, and Gryffindor by a hardheaded idiot. Harry was not a girl! And really only Methos would dare mess with history amd memories. Rowan and Godfred weren't the type to pull off a plan that large scale. The sorting hat seemed to just feed the false history, Harry scowled. It was his bleeding hat! Why was it lying? He never encoraged lies to such a great exstent.

Harry stopped walking a looked at a portrait of Uric the Oddball. The man was sleeping with a stuffed pig while dressed in drag. Harry smiled. It was nice to finally have blackmail matterial on Godfred. But why Godfred spent a lifetime pretending to be absolutly insane, was beyond Harry.

"Hn," The portrait started to wake, "Hendrik?" it questioned Harry. Harry smiled and nodded.

"Yes. You wouldn't happen to know where the real Godfred is, do you?"

"O' course I do! I'm how I keep track of the goings on here. Sauveur vanished on me and Rowan got dragged into keeping the demons away. The poor man's been watching over champions and slayers for centuries now. I'm over in the States. See aliens are starting to make contact with Earth through this thing called a Stargate, and not all of them are nice. The real me is heading up the immortals who are helping out in research and support staff roles for the mortals who keep the bad guys away and keep the secrets secret. Besides, we also keep the mortals away from hints about us and the Game." the portrait said and Harry nodded.

"Does Sauveur know what you and Rowan are doing?" Harry asked. Uric nodded.

"Yes. He's been a watcher off and on, trying to help keep our kind under control and keep a lot of our secrets buried. But lately, if what I was hearing is right, this Scot, an absolute whinner, he drug Sauveur through a ton of crap, used him as a scapegoat when things got weird, and finally Sauveur just up and left that life. I almost wish that idiot would go and get his head loped off after what he drug up."

"What?"

"Death. The Horsemen almost rode again, but even after Sauveur helped to stop it all, even to kill his old fellows, that Scot kept throwing it back in his face."

"What a wanker!" Harry was almost fuming, he knew just how much that part of his friend's past hurt, it had almost been Hendrik who ressurrected the legacy of the Horsemen. For some idiot to just keep throwing a past that was more than justified and painful in Methos' face was beyond anything the normally patient immortal could stand.

"Tell me about it. Rowan toyed with the idea of recuiting the Scot for frontline duty or as a Slayer punching bag." Harry laughed, he remembered Rowan's almost split personnas. On one hand he could be an absolute geek, but then once threatened he'd pull out all the stops and could even delve into dark and chaos magics with a good streak of white to direct it all at his foe. Rowan was a mage to be feared.

"Well, I'm back."

"About time too. We all missed you, Hendrik."


End file.
